Losing My Grip
by CrissColferSexRiot
Summary: Kurt is, in every sense of the word, alone. He becomes self-destructive, but when a certain Warbler comes into his life, how does it change him? TRIGGER WARNING. Now a twoshot: Kurt struggles with relapsing and doesn't know how to ask for help.
1. Losing My Grip

**I'm back with another fic! I'm both happy and unhappy with the way this turned out. Some parts I don't like my writing, but I can't find a way to change it. Please give feedback!**

**-Fiona  
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**WARNING: Possible triggers. Contains self-harm, attempted suicide, and attempted rape. Discretion is advised.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the characters. That privilege is RIB's...**

* * *

><p>Suicide.<p>

I thought about that every day. I thought about it every time I was pushed into a locker, every time someone shouted "fag" into my face.

It seemed like such a simple solution. For a while, though, the glee club kept me grounded. They supported me and helped me get back on my feet after a tough day. But ever so slowly, they drifted away.

Then I truly became alone. Glee used to be my sanctuary…but it became like any other class. I wasn't noticed. I might as well have been dead; they probably wouldn't have even realized I was gone.

This was proved when Mr. Schuester called for boys vs. girls again. I moved to the girl's side and he didn't give a reason to believe that he'd consciously saw this action. Neither did the girls. They formed a circle, excluding me. After a minute, I stormed out of the room. No one followed or even called my name.

Angry and depressed, I skipped the rest of class and drove home. My father and Carole were at work so the house was empty and quiet.

I didn't know what was happening until I felt the razor cut into my flesh. I broke out of my trance when I saw red spill out of a thin line on my forearm. For half a minute, my mind was focused on the physical pain. I forgot about glee, I forgot about Karofsky, I forgot about every single thing that had screwed up my life. I just _felt_ for those thirty seconds. Then I started to remember.

So I cut again.

And again.

And again.

I didn't stop until the skin on both arms were stained red and I couldn't hold the razor anymore. The bloodied piece of metal fell to the tile. In a twisted way, for the first time in month, I felt happy. Maybe it wasn't happiness…I felt calm.

I turned on the shower to wash off. I laughed sinisterly as my tears mixed with the blood going down the drain.

…

With my arms bandaged, I drove. I didn't have a clue where I was heading until I pulled into a parking lot. Looking up, I noted that it was a small coffee shop called The Lima Bean. It was on the edge of town so I wasn't afraid of running into anybody from school.

Walking in, I realized I didn't have a jacket to cover up my bandages. Then I realized I didn't care. I knew no one would notice anyways.

I had to clear my throat so the barista would take my order.

A few minutes later, I was sitting at a table, staring blankly into the distance and sipping my coffee.

"What are you thinking about so hard?"

I looked up and saw a boy around my age with gelled hair looking at me.

It took me a second, but I finally responded.

"Life."

He quietly laughed. "May I sit?"

Raking my eyes down his body, I slowly nodded. He looked harmless.

"What happened to your arms?"

I tensed. "Pry much?" I asked with an annoyed tone. "I don't even know your name, why should I tell you the first thing about me?"

"Blaine Anderson," he said with a grin, seemingly oblivious to my deathly stare. He gave me an expectant look.

"Kurt Hummel," I mumbled back, eyes focused on my coffee and all confidence I'd had ten seconds ago gone.

"So do you want to tell me what happened?"

"My cat," I lied easily.

Blaine nodded as he took a drink from his coffee.

"I used to have a cat," he commented. "This time of year he used to shed like crazy. I'd be lucky if I could find a shirt with no cat hair on it. So, judging by the clean state of your clothes, you either have a severe case of obsessive compulsive disorder, or you're lying."

"Fine, it was my _dog_."

He leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

I sighed and slumped back in my chair. "Well?" I asked. "What are you going to do? Laugh at me? Find some friends to help beat me up? Call me an emo fag?"

Blaine looked at me with a new expression I couldn't name. "Is that what people do to you at school and at home?"

"School, yes," I said cautiously. "Home, no. They're both just as bad, though."

"Why is home as bad as school?"

I looked up and stared the boy in the eye. Why did he want to know my life story, why did he give a shit about the gay kid in the corner of a coffee shop?

In his eyes, I saw nothing but compassion and understanding.

"Because," I started with a sigh. "I've talked more with you than I have in the past week. The friends I had don't even say hi in the hallway. No one talks to me unless it's to call me homo or lady or fag. Even my dad hasn't said more than three words to me today."

The boy, Blaine, looked at me with the most genuine apologetic and sorrowful eyes I'd seen in months.

"And what happened today that made you hurt yourself?"

I shrugged.

"It might take a while."

Blaine pulled out his phone to check the time. "How about this," he said while pocketing the device. "I have choir practice in an hour and I need to get down there, but if you would feel so inclined, I'm sure my friends on the council wouldn't mind you sitting in."

I should've known it was too good to be true. As soon as he offered to go somewhere with me, I was positive he was someone Karofsky had gotten to help harass me.

I angrily stood. "Give it up. Tell Karofsky hi for me. I'm leaving; I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing any more of my problems."

I took a step but felt Blaine grabbing me.

"Don't touch me."

He grabbed my hand anyways. "Look at me," he said. I refused. "Look at me!" I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for him to let me go. "Please?"

The desperation in his voice caught my attention. I met his hazel eyes. What I saw there took my breath away. It had been so long since someone had looked at me like that.

I saw acceptance. I saw pain. I saw knowledge. I did not, however, see deceit or mockery.

"I'm sorry if something I said upset you," he said sincerely, staring into my eyes. "But if you're comfortable with it, I do wish you you'd join me."

For a moment, I was struck speechless. No one had ever tried to help me so persistently. I always had to find them and make them listen to my problems.

"I…okay."

* * *

><p>"I'm really sorry about that back in the coffee shop," I said, a blush creeping up on my face. "I'm so used to having to keep my guard up for Karofsky and his pack of Neanderthals that <em>of course<em>. A cute boy just walks up to me and I start spilling my insecurities to him, my luck would be that he's one of Karofsky's friends."

Blaine simply grinned while he drove. My eyes widened when I realized what adjective I'd used to describe him.

_Change the subject. Now._

"What school do you go to?" I asked innocently.

"Dalton Academy," he replied cheerfully.

Dalton Academy…I recognized that name. Where had I heard that before? Dalton Aca—oh.

"And this rehearsal we're going to…"

"I'm in my schools glee club, the Warblers."

_Shit._

"I don't think I should go," I said quickly.

"Why not?"

"Um…I'm in the McKinley High New Directions."

"Ah," Blaine said, smiling at me. "Looks like I'll have to sneak you in."

Then he winked at me.

Good god.

I started to unconsciously lean on my elbow, but immediately jumped back with a quiet screech of pain. The cuts had started hurting a lot more.

"Do you want to start on that story, now?"

I sighed. "Can I ask you a sort of personal question?"

Blaine shot me a look. "Okay?"

"Are you gay?"

He burst into laughter.

Well, I guess that answered my question.

"No, god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but people always ask me that. I guess I do look pretty straight for a gay guy, but really. If you could just see my Vogue collection…yes, yes I am. Very gay."

That slightly comforted me.

"So you know the type of bullying a gay kid can go through in Ohio."

Blaine's grin became strained. "Y—yeah. Yeah I do. That was my reason for going to Dalton in the first place."

I raised my eyebrow inquisitively.

"There's a strict no bullying policy," he explained. "Everyone's treated equally."

Words couldn't describe my shock. The idea of that kind of haven existing seemed like just that. An idea.

"Hey, you okay?" Blaine inquired, lacing his fingers through mine in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. However, all it succeeded in was confusing me even more.

I'd never held hands with another boy before. Maybe it's stupid, but for a flamboyant gay teenager living in a small town in Ohio, it felt like a big deal.

"Um…" _Very articulate, Hummel_, I criticized myself. I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'm great."

"In that case," Blaine said calmly. "Would you like to begin?"

"Let me just start by saying that being the only out gay kid at McKinley doesn't make me the most popular person there, and being in glee doesn't help that."

"Really?" Blaine asked incredulously. "At Dalton, if you're in the Warblers, you're automatically popular."

"Stop making me jealous," I said, frowning.

"Sorry," he snickered at my expression. "Please continue. I'll try not to interrupt."

I took a deep breath.

"I'm pushed into lockers, laughed at, and slushied every day. For a long time, I could deal with it. The entirety of New Directions backed me up. I had a place to go when things got bad." When I paused, Blaine squeezed my hand encouragingly.

"Then the bullying gradually got worse. I was even being followed home. People would drive by my house and shout 'you're a fag'. They would call me, and somehow they finally got my father's number." I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. "He stopped telling me when he got the calls after a little while, but I could tell when he'd received them. He would look at my differently. He's always said before that he doesn't care if I'm gay, but I know he just wishes I was straight."

Blaine squeezed my hand again. I clutched his back.

"What happened today?"

"I was in glee," I started. "Last year, before sectionals, we did a boys verses girls competition to get us psyched up or something. I had automatically gone to the girl's side." Blaine laughed quietly. "Don't judge," I said playfully. "I get along with them better.

"Anyways, as soon as I got there, Mr. Schue had told me to go to the boy's side. Today he announced that we'd be doing that again. I went to the girl's side and…nothing. No response from Mr. Schue. I was happy that he'd finally let me be in their group until I realized that the girls didn't notice either. I finally walked out. No one paid attention to the sound of me slamming the door."

"So why did you self-harm?"

After a minute, I said quietly "I've had that razor for months. I just never used it because my dad would notice…but, like the glee club, he just stopped paying attention. And when I made that first cut, the physical pain outweighed the emotional and for that moment, I just forgot."

"Kurt," Blaine said quietly. When he said my name, shivers shot down my spine. What? We pulled into what I assumed was the Dalton parking lot. "I know that you feel really alone, but now that I've met you, I will always be there for you. I don't care how strange that sounds. I will be."

He squeezed my hand one more time before getting out of the car and opening my door for me. I quickly slipped out. Looking down, I wished I hadn't come. The bandages were very obvious; anyone who took one look at them would know what I'd done.

Blaine noticed my reluctance immediately. "Here," he said, shrugging out of his uniform jacket.

I gratefully put it on, but then made a sound of disgust. "God, this is so boxy, and the color does nothing for my complexion."

A laugh came from the boy next to me. He simply grabbed my hand again and led me into the massive building.

After half a dozen turns, we finally entered a well decorated room filled with uniformed boys.

"Warbler Blaine, how nice of you to join us," said a dark skinned boy sitting at a desk at the front of the room.

"Oh, shut up, David," Blaine responded.

"I see you brought a friend," the Asian sitting next to him commented.

"Guys, this is my frien—"

"Wes! He's wearing Blaine's blazer!"

"Get some, Anderson!"

"Our lead singer finally found a boyfriend!"

"They grow up so fast."

The group suddenly became very rowdy.

"Warblers!" The one that a boy had called Wes exclaimed. He banged a gavel on the table to get their attention. "Calm. Blaine, would you like to introduce your…_friend_?" He asked with a smirk.

"This is Kurt Hummel."

"Kurt! You gay?" A boy in the back yelled.

My eyes widened and suddenly I was back at McKinley with Karofsky shouting in my face. My breathing sped up and I quickly shook my head.

I flinched when I felt a hand grasping mine, but began to calm as Blaine spoke quietly in my ear.

"Shh, it's okay, you're safe," he repeated. Slowly, I came out of my panic and was faced with twenty curious stares. I slowly edged behind Blaine. "Yes, he's gay," he answered for me. "But, no, we are not dating."

"Aw," the boys, including Wes and David, whined.

* * *

><p>I sat next to Blaine for the rehearsal which wasn't really a rehearsal. It mostly consisted of the council talking about what songs Blaine could sing best and what would or would not show Dalton in a positive light.<p>

After the hour was over, I left with Blaine to go back to his car.

"Got enough info for your glee club, spy?" He asked teasingly.

"Ha," I snorted. "If they ask where I've been, I'll tell them everything. Lucky for you, no one will."

* * *

><p>On Thursday, I walked down the hallways of McKinley feeling ten feet tall. I'd been texting Blaine all week and he made me feel better when everyone else ignored me.<p>

_To: Kurt_

_ From: Blaine_

_ Anything bad happen so far?_

_ To: Blaine_

_ From: Kurt_

_ Nope, just being ignored. I guess it's better than being harassed._

_ To: Kurt_

_ From: Blaine_

_ If anything happens, call me and I'll ditch class. Even if it's small, I really want to get out of history :)_

_ To: Blaine_

_ From: Kurt_

_ Good to know I'm just a reason to get out of class :P_

And everything was great for that moment. I was smiling as I walked down the hallway until a hand shot out and pushed me into the lockers, right next to one being closed.

Pain shot through my hand as the metal swung shut against my wrist. The girl closing her locker gasped and reached out to help me, but then noticed Karofsky laughing and thought better of it. Throwing an apologetic glance, she scurried away.

I bit back a scream and hurried away. I went to the glee classroom, cradling my hand against my chest. I knew it would be empty; we had another class period until it began. Someone was bound to notice me writhing in pain and offer to take me home before I got there, right? But no, of course not. I found a seat in the empty choir room. Using my good hand, I fished out my phone and called Blaine.

"_Hello?"_

"Blaine?" I whimpered.

"_Kurt, what's wrong?"_

"Can you come pick me up?"

"_Of course, I'm almost to my car. What happened?"_

"My wrist is sprained. I don't think it's broken, but I'm not sure."

"_God, Kurt, you need to go to the nurse."_

"I can't," I said as a sob shook my skinny frame. "They'll call my dad and…I just can't face him like this. He'll know it happened because I'm gay, and if I have to see that look in his face that says he wished I was straight one more time, I'll lose it, Blaine. Please, just come pick me up."

There was silence on the other end for a second, until I heard his voice again. _"I'll be there in a little over an hour."_

"Thank you," I whispered. I told him where the glee room was and hung up. I took some pain medication that I'd stashed in my bag a while before and settled in to wait.

* * *

><p>After an hour, people started trickling in for glee. No one noticed me.<p>

The boys and girls sat on opposite sides of the room, making last minute plans for the competition. Mr. Schue came in and started shuffling papers around and paid no attention to me, sitting in the middle of the room holding a swollen hand.

Fifteen minutes later, my ear drums were shattered by Rachel screeching _"Spy!"_

My eyes flashed open and I saw Blaine standing breathlessly in the doorway.

Mr. Schue made his way over to the boy at the door. "I'm sorry; you're a Warbler, right? Do you need something?"

"No, I'm here for Kurt," he gasped out.

Everyone searched the room for me and the sudden intake of breath meant they'd seen me and my hand.

"Kurt, what happened?" Finn exploded. So much for being brothers.

"I have been sitting here for over an hour," I said, attempting to keep my voice level.

The confused looks said enough.

"Let's go, Blaine," I said softly, starting to stand.

"Hell if I'm letting you walk," he muttered, swinging my messenger bag over his shoulder. He then proceeded to knock my feet out from under me and picked me up bridal style.

"It's good to know that you finally acknowledged his existence," Blaine said with a judgmental tone before walking out with me.

Before I began to protest about being carried out, I realized how strong Blaine's hands were and how safe I felt. I threw my good arm around his neck and rested my head on his chest. I closed my eyes and for those few minutes that he carried me to his car, I could ignore the pain of my hand and just relish the fact that I was in Blaine's arms.

After gently depositing me in the passenger seat—and I was surprised to realize how disappointed I was when he let go of me—he climbed into the driver's side and examined my hand.

"Hospital?"

"Home, please."

"But Kurt—"

"No, I want to go home. I'm almost one hundred percent sure that it's not broken and I have a brace at home. Besides, we couldn't afford the hospital."

Blaine gave me a look that I couldn't name, but relented. I gave him my address and he started driving.

* * *

><p>"So what do you think I should do now?" I asked while holding a bag of ice to my wrist.<p>

"For obvious reasons you can't confront Karofsky, but I do think you should accuse the glee club of what they've done," Blaine offered.

"Could you…do you think you could be there when I do?"

"Whatever you need."

"And I saw a guitar in the back of your car, do you play?"

"Uh…yeah, I do."

"I don't know how the Warblers go about these things, but I'd like…wow, it sounds so awkward when I say this, I don't know how Rachel does it. I'd like to perform a song when I talk to them."

Blaine nodded in understanding. We sat in silence for a few moments until I finally found the courage to ask something that had been swimming around my head all day.

"Can you…" I began. "Can you tell me what happened at your old school that made you transfer to Dalton?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. His brow furrowed and he appeared to be thinking very hard about something.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable with it," I said quickly.

"No, I just…haven't told anyone in a long time."

I nodded and waited patiently.

"First, let me say that your bullies are far worse because they don't just physically hurt you, they're also emotionally and mentally hurting you. Mine just pushed me around." Blaine pulled his legs onto the couch and sat cross-legged. "Most of it was just shoves. Pushing me into lockers, throwing my bag to the floor. Simple stuff, it never really got to me. The first time they actually beat me up, I went home bloody and cleaned myself up. When my parents found out I had a broken nose, I told them I accidentally got hit by an open locker. They didn't know I was gay.

"When I was fifteen, I was walking down the hallway, minding my own business, and some jocks came up." He paused and took a breath. I reached out for his hand and held it in mine just like he'd done for me so many days ago. "I tried to run, but they pushed me, and pushed me, and pushed me, until I didn't feel anything below my feet. I fell down the staircase, and when I reached the bottom, they came down and threw me down the next set." His grip on my hand strengthened.

"I broke my right leg, sprained my elbow, and my nose got broken again. While I was in the hospital, I came out to my parents. My dad…didn't take it well. He told me it was wrong and disgusting and that I better take it back and promise that I was straight or else he would kick me out. My mom worked to calm him down and while she wasn't wild about it at the time, she told me that I was still her son and if that's who I was, then that's who I was. My older brother, Taylor, went to a school called Dalton because he wanted a prestigious school like that on his college applications. My mom transferred me there for the no bullying policy.

"I hated myself for transferring because I felt weak. I wasn't the only out gay person at my school. There was another guy, his name was Brayden Murray. We stuck together and helped each other out when the bullying got bad. We were each other's only friend. One week after I transferred…Bray was killed. He was found in an alleyway, he'd _bled_ to death. I found out that it took him hours to die. Hours that I was sitting safe at Dalton, hanging out with my new friends. I just sat there while he was bleeding to death in an alley. Everyone said it was a mugging gone wrong, only I knew that it was the jocks from school that'd killed him. Bray's parents didn't know he was gay, and we'd promised each other that no matter how unlikely it was, if something like this happened, I'd tell his parents that he was gay and vice versa. So I told his parents…and they didn't believe me. They told me I was sick for trying to hurt them even more after they'd lost their only child. That hurt me so much because even after Bray was dead, he still wasn't accepted by anyone other than me.

"Later, my parents got divorced. My mom said that my dad was a threat to me. Sometimes he would drink too much and yell and scream at me and tell me that he didn't want a f...a f..." He rubbed his hands against his face. "God, I'm sorry...when I'm reliving this...I can't even say it." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "He didn't want a you-know-what living under his roof. Once, my mom didn't know he'd been drinking and she left for thirty seconds just to get the mail, and he started attacking me. Gave me a black eye and a broken rib. I live alone with my mom now. My older brother lives in an apartment and goes to a community college. He's waiting until I graduate to leave Ohio."

I pulled the boy in front of me into a hug. I couldn't imagine having my dad do that to me. My dad who I'd had forever, backing me up in everything I tried to do, just turn his back on me one day because of who I was. I couldn't imagine losing my only friend and then feeling positive that it was my fault…that if I hadn't wimped out and ran away, that he'd still be alive. I almost asked why Blaine's brother still lived here, but decided that I'd have time later to ask. He needed to be comforted right now.

Blaine hugged me back for a few more seconds than was normal but when he released me, the look in his eyes scared me. "I'm not done yet. When Bray died and when my parents were going through the divorce…I…I did this."

He took off his blazer and tie, and then began to unbutton the white shirt underneath. He took a deep breath and took off the dress shirt.

Blaine sat in front of me with only an undershirt covering his chest and I could see possibly a hundred old cuts along his arms and upper chest. Tears pricked my eyes. For the days that I'd known him, he'd been so confident and sure of himself, but now he couldn't have looked more afraid and vulnerable.

He slowly put his hands in my lap and showed me the pulse points in his wrist. There, I saw something I would never forget. I saw deep scars over the pulsing skin that had once been fatal.

Tears fell across Blaine's cheeks slowly. I pulled him into my arms again and the dam broke. He sobbed into my shirt and using my good arm, I rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked quietly.

Half a minute later, he tried to calm his tears and appeared to prepare himself to tell the story. "When I was still fifteen, a week before I was scheduled to transfer to Dalton, I did this to myself," he started, absently touching one wrist.

* * *

><p>'<em>Do you see what you're doing? You're tearing your family apart, you worthless piece of shit.' I looked into the mirror of my bathroom, shirtless, staring at the half a dozen fresh cuts on my stomach.<em>

_My mother had worried and hovered like a mad woman before she left for a meeting with the dean of Dalton. She was discussing my past, making sure the dean knew everything so that if I reacted…badly to anything, I had an excuse._

_My brother was on a date for crying out loud, but that didn't stop him from texting me every half hour, checking up on me._

_My father was gone for good. Because of me, Taylor and I had to lose a father, and our mother had to lose a husband._

_I was ruining my family._

_If I was gone, everything would be right again._

_It's my fault that our family was incomplete._

_Taylor's grades were probably dropping at Dalton. He boarded, but the only thing he did at his dorm room was sleep. All of his other time was spent at home. He hadn't done this until after their father had attacked me. Could I live with myself if Taylor threw away his academic scholarship for me?_

_No, I was better not being there to wreck anything else._

_Still shirtless after cutting my stomach, I sat down in my bathtub. It was bound to be messy, so when Taylor, who would probably be home sooner, found me, he wouldn't have to clean anything. Just turn on the shower head and it would all wash away. I wouldn't be a nuisance to them._

_I held the razor up to the pulse point in my wrist. After a second, I sat the metal down and grabbed my phone. After a second of thinking, I composed a text message._

To: Taylor

From: Blaine

Bye. Tell Mom I love her. Sorry to have been in the way.

_I pressed send and sat the phone down on the tile next to the bathtub._

_There. Now I could do it._

_Feeling eerily peaceful, I picked up the razor. Quickly, I made the first slash. I gasped out in pain as blood flowed freely from the deep, pulsing wound. My eyes swam with the involuntary tears. I made my wounded arm move and forced my fingers to grip the razor. The intensity of my hold cut into my fingers. Somehow, I found the strength to cut into the veins on my other arm._

_As I faded out of consciousness, I heard my phone ring. _"All that I know is I'm breathing, all I can do is keep breathing, all we can do is keep breathing now"_ it sang. A smile graced my face as I silently laughed at the irony._

_I couldn't keep breathing._

_I let out what should have been my last breath._

* * *

><p>"<em>Blaine? Where are you? Blaine?" Who was that? Am I dead yet? "Oh my god, Blaine!" I think I am. The pain is nearly insufferable. I guess Heaven and Hell must exist, because I'm sure I'm in the latter.<em>

_ Suddenly, I was being moved. Pain shot through my entire body and I cried out. "God, Blaine, please wake up!" Wake up? Does this mean I'm still alive? "Please, please, please, Blaine."_

_ I felt myself being jostled and tried to groan out "No, let me die," but from what I could tell, it came out as a garbled mush._

_ "Please, Blaine. You can't die, you just can't!"_

_ I tried to open my eyes so I could attempt to tell whoever it was that yes, I could die if I so pleased, which I do. I'm a bother and I mess up everything I touch._

_ I was better off gone._

_I fell back into the blackness._

* * *

><p>After a few minutes, Blaine's cries quieted. "I woke up a day later in the hospital. Taylor looked dead on his feet from lack of sleep and his eyes were bloodshot from crying. My mother was asleep in another chair in the room. Taylor still lives in Ohio because he likes to know I'm close by. He was accepted into Julliard, he likes theater, and said that after I graduate, we're going to move to New York together. Taylor…Taylor's my whole world. I've never told anyone that, including him," he whispered. He looked up at me and his hazel eyes bore into mine. They were red from crying but they also sparkled with more tears. "That's why I went up to you in the coffee shop, you know. I couldn't stand to see someone else with those scars. Whenever I look at myself…I feel disgusted that I could do that. I don't want anyone else to look at themselves and feel what I feel every day."<p>

Hearing him talk like that…it did things to my heart that had never happened before. It felt like it was swelling so much it would burst. When he said he disgusted himself, it almost physically hurt me. This boy, this loving, caring, beautiful boy…hating himself every time he looked into the mirror? The tears that had been welling in my eyes while he told me his story finally spilled over. I held onto him while I cried, never wanting to let him go. I wanted to keep him in my arms, away from the world.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for saving my life."

"Thank you for giving me a reason to live," Blaine whispered back.

I pulled away and look into his hazel eyes, glistening with tears. "I'm your reason to live? What about Taylor?"

"Taylor kept me safe and made me feel important. He set up a plan for us. I stayed alive to keep him happy. But you make me happy to be alive."

For what seemed like forever, I simply stared at him. Then, I gave in.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

For a moment, I was in pure bliss. Then I noticed that Blaine was unresponsive.

I quickly pulled away and stared at my hands in my lap, tears welling up again. "Sorry," I muttered.

Blaine unfroze and lifted my chin up so I was looking at him.

"For what?"

"Because," I started, confused. What did he think? "That was stupid of me to just…kiss you when you're going through an emotional crisis."

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"If I hadn't been emotional, would you still be sorry that you did that?"

I looked deep into his eyes, cocking my head at him quizzically. I slowly shook my head.

A smile spread across his face and he leaned in, firmly kissing me.

My eyes were wide and all I could see was Blaine's softly shut eyelids a mere two centimeters away from me. Then I realized.

_I'm kissing Blaine Anderson. No, _he's_ kissing _me_. Voluntarily._

At that thought, my eyelids fluttered shut and I melted into the kiss.

So this is what being needed felt like.

It felt real good.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure we should do this?" I asked nervously. I'd skipped all of school, but was now in the passenger seat of Blaine's car in the parking lot of McKinley. Dad hadn't noticed that I had stayed home.<p>

Blaine had stayed over for hours the night before, and we'd simply talked about anything and everything. Finn had tried to talk to me countless times, but I kept my door locked and went silent when he knocked.

"Kurt, they need to know the extent of what they've done to you," Blaine said, laying a hand on mine. My other hand was in a brace. Seeing Blaine carrying his guitar made everything seem much more real.

I looked at our hands and then gave a sigh. "I know, I'm just scared."

When Blaine was silent, I looked up. He was looking at me with an expression I'd never been looked at with before. It was caring, it was acceptance, and it was affection. He leaned over and pecked me on the lips. "Don't be," he whispered.

I almost whined after he kissed me. If I could have just spent the whole day kissing him, I would. We climbed out of the car and then walked hand in hand into the school building. It was after three so very few people were around.

I led us to the glee room. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door. Mr. Schue seemed shaken while he quietly addressed the club, mumbling something about the performances each group was supposed to do. No one was listening; they were all in their little worlds.

"Mr. Schue?" I asked.

He looked up. "Kurt," he said, looking relieved. "We've all been worried about you."

"Well, you should have been."

"We wanted to—"

"If what you wanted was to apologize to me, save it. I have something I need to say."

Mr. Schue nodded dejectedly and sat down.

I looked at Blaine and he squeezed my hand encouragingly.

"I can see your remorse, but I don't want your pity. I want your understanding."

Finn had his head in his hands while Mercedes' and Rachel's expressions had screwed up into those of near tears. I couldn't help but wonder, was it bad that I was happy they felt awful?

"These past weeks, hell, probably a month, I've been alone. Glee was always the place that I was welcomed, but you all made it just like everywhere else. Harsh. Unaccepting. The only thing that kept me…_alive _these past few days, was Blaine."

I looked at him. He was gazing at me with pain in his eyes.

"I can't really begin to explain how depressed I was, so I decided to sing it."

Blaine opened his case and pulled out an acoustic guitar. He slung the strap over his shoulders.

He began to strum the chords and I focused on him when I began.

_Are you aware of what you make me feel, baby?_

_Right now I feel invisible to you, like I'm not real_

_Didn't you feel me lock my arms around you?_

_Why'd you turn away? Here's what I have to say_

I took a deep breath and began to roll up my sleeves.

_I was left to cry there_

_Waiting outside there_

_Grinning with a lost stare_

_That's when I decided_

I rolled my sleeves up a little higher than my elbow. I looked down at the nearly healed scabs. I heard quite a few gasps come from the club, but I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't look at them.

_Why should I care?_

'_Cause you weren't there_

_When I was scared_

_I was so alone_

Eyes still shut, I took a step closer to Blaine. I laid my arm on his shoulder, needing to feel him there.

_You, you need to listen_

_I'm starting to trip_

_I'm losing my grip_

_And I'm in this thing alone_

I opened my eyes, but focused on nothing. I blankly stared at the tiled floor. I finally concentrated on Blaine when he moved his head to look at me, taking his eyes off the guitar for only a moment. But in that moment, I got the courage I so desperately needed.

_Am I just some guy you place beside you_

_To take somebody's place?_

_When you turn around can you recognize my face?_

_You used to love me, you used to hug me_

_But that wasn't the case, everything wasn't okay_

I looked up and made eye contact with each person in the club. Some wouldn't look back at me. Some looked ashamed. Some were crying. Some showed no emotion, like they were in shock.

_I was left to cry there_

_Waiting outside there_

_Grinning with the lost stare_

_That's when I decided_

A tear escaped my eyes as I started the chorus. I suddenly felt so exposed. I no longer had the adrenaline rush from earlier and I was having second thoughts. But there was no going back now. I couldn't just make them forget my scars, just like I never would.

_Why should I care?_

'_Cause you weren't there_

_When I was scared_

_I was so alone_

I self-consciously rubbed my hands against the scars as if I could rub them away. Another tear fell across my cheek.

_You, you need to listen_

_I'm starting to trip_

_I'm losing my grip_

_And I'm in this thing alone_

I closed my eyes again as more tears fell.

_Crying out loud, I'm crying out loud_

_Crying out loud, I'm crying out loud_

_Open your eyes_

_Open up wide_

My grip on Blaine's shoulder strengthened and I felt his neck muscles shift. I opened my eyes and just watched him. He glanced at me, making sure I was okay, and then turned back to the guitar.

_Why should I care?_

'_Cause you weren't there_

_When I was scared_

_I was so alone_

_Why should I care?_

'_Cause you weren't there_

_When I was scared_

_I was so alone_

_Why should I care?_

_If you don't care_

_Then I don't care_

_We're not going anywhere_

_Why should I care?_

'_Cause you weren't there_

_When I was scared_

_I was so alone_

_Why should I care?_

_If you don't care_

_Then I don't care_

_We're not going anywhere_

Blaine let the last chords fade out and I sang the few added lines at the end in the silence to him.

_I'm starting to trip_

_I'm losing my grip_

_We're in this thing alone_

Blaine pulled the guitar off and sat it on the piano. The moment his arms were free, I fell into them and let a sob rip through me. I'd never felt more vulnerable in my life. These people…these were the people who had been there for me for so long, and then they just stopped. I was baring all my secrets in front of them. I was showing my physical and emotional scars.

"Kurt," Finn started.

"No," I half shouted. I'd had enough of their looks. I stood in front of Blaine but kept one hand in his. "You can't just say that you're sorry and then let everything go back to the way it was. I thought you were all there for me; I thought you were my friends."

"We are your friends," Mercedes said quietly.

"You've got a damn strange way of showing it!" I shouted. "Karofsky, Azimio, everyone, they've been getting worse, and I've been dealing with it alone. Yesterday they shoved me into a locker that was being shut, and this happened!" I waved the arm that wasn't in Blaine's hand in the air. It was being supported by a tan brace. "I sat here for an hour and a half waiting for Blaine to pick me up because none of you noticed."

"If you'd just said something—" Finn started.

"So I have to go up to you to get attention? I have to request it? Do I not deserve to be noticed? Am I just the twelfth member, the one who makes you eligible for competitions?"

"Kurt, you know none of those things are true," Mr. Schue said, standing up. "We all care about you."

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his caring, when Blaine stepped in front of me. "You care about him? You _care_ about him? You've got some nerve to say you care about him. I've only known Kurt for a week, and the first time we met, he told me he'd spoken more in those ten minutes than he had in the week before. I doubt any of you have ever gone through a true depression, because if you had, you would have noticed the signs of Kurt's. I saw him in the coffee shop; I saw the bandages; so I talked to him. That's all any of you had to do. Just _talk_ to him. Let him know that someone cares. But no, that was too much for any of you to be bothered with; you were too wrapped up in your petty high school dramas to notice someone who was truly suffering."

A fresh wave of tears came and I wrapped my arms around Blaine's waist. He turned around and I buried my head in his chest, simply letting his scent wrap around me and calm me. What hurt the most was that it was all true. All I needed was one full conversation with someone who actually thought I was important. Instead, I got silence.

"Kurt—" Rachel began.

"I think I'd like to leave," I said, breathing in deeply in an attempt to calm my tears. "Can we leave?" I whispered to Blaine.

"Of course," he replied just as quietly.

I kept my eyes trained on the floor, not brave enough to meet their eyes, as Blaine wrapped his arm around my waist and led me out of the classroom. We noiselessly walked down the hallway and we were soon at Blaine's car.

"You okay?" Blaine asked, brushing a bit of hair out of my eyes.

I took a shaky breath and nodded, leaning into his touch. "I will be."

"Let's go to your house, okay? We'll talk over our next steps and maybe talk to them again tomorrow."

After a moment, I shook my head. "No, I think there are a few more things I'd like to say to them today." Blaine made to walk back with me, but I laid a hand on his arm. "Could I do this bit alone?"

Blaine slowly nodded.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"I'll wait in the car."

I wrapped my arms around myself and made my way back to the building. I had an idea of what I was going to tell them. Maybe I shouldn't hate them so much, but am I not allowed to hate the people who drove me to self-harm? Blaine, a complete stranger, saved my life, while they, my supposed best friends, just sat in the side lines. How could they not—

I was hit with what seemed to be the force of a semi into a row of lockers.

"Hey, Lady," Karofsky breathed into my ear.

I closed my eyes. Just imagine you're somewhere else, he'll leave soon.

"Why are you crying? Did your little glee friends finally realize what a freak you are?"

I lowered my head and tried to stop listening.

"I saw you walk in with another guy, he your boyfriend, Hummel?"

"Leave me alone," I managed to squeak out.

"This is my school, I don't like you bringing your faggy boyfriend here, breathing up my air."

"Don't talk about him like that," I said, my voice slightly less shaky.

Karofsky's meaty hands pushed me tighter against the locker. I whimpered in pain. Go away, go away, go away, go away, _go away_!

The pressure disappeared and I found myself being shoved down the hallway. I was pushed through a door which swung open when I hit it. We were in the locker room.

"I don't think you get what I'm saying, Lady," Karofsky muttered into my ear. I was shoved into the lockers again.

"Walk out that door now, Karofsky, and I won't report you."

"Oh yeah?" He said with a mocking tone. "Gonna report me? For what? Showing you your place?"

"For harassment."

"Harassment, huh? This is harassment?"

Then his lips were pressed against mine.

I tried to scream, to push him off, _anything_. I could do nothing. I was immobile. I pushed against his huge form.

I felt a fist impact my gut. I was released. I fell to the ground with a scream.

"Don't fight back," he whispered with a look on his face that made me want to vomit.

I struggled to sit up and get away, but was pushed back down onto the floor. Karofsky straddled me.

"Please stop, please stop, _please_!" I closed my eyes, wishing that if I couldn't see it, it wouldn't happen. Tears fell down my cheeks.

Karofsky shushed me, making soothing sounds as if I were a crying baby. I felt his weight move, his hot breath blowing across my face. He forced his lips on mine again.

I gave up. I stopped fighting. I cleared my mind. If I couldn't stop him, then I would do my best not to feel.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

_No, no, no. Don't let him see me like this._

Karofsky's weight was pushed off of me and I heard him hit the lockers next to us. A hand gripped me around my waist and I was slid across the floor. Blaine's familiar arms wrapped around me. A sob ripped through my body.

I opened my eyes slightly. Blaine stood up as Karofsky did.

"N—no, Blaine," I said softly, my voice cracking.

_Crack!_

Blood fell from Karofsky's nose where Blaine's fist had connected with his face.

"_Never. Touch him. Again._"

Even I shrunk back at Blaine's tone.

Karofsky held a hand up to his nose.

Blaine rushed over to me. I tried to stand, but he shook his head and picked me up. He gripped me tightly to his chest. He gave another glare in Karofsky's direction and rushed out. Blaine ran through the hallways with me, and burst out the doors. Soon we were at Blaine's car. He stood me up and opened my door and ushered me in. He hurried to the driver's side and got in.

"You have no idea how hard it was not to crush his face in," Blaine seethed, staring at the steering wheel.

A sob wracked my body. Blaine's head flashed up and his expression softened a considerable amount when he saw my current state.

"Come here," he whispered, holding his hands out.

I gratefully fell into his embrace. Sure, the gear shift was sticking into my back and this definitely wasn't the most convenient position, but I needed comfort. Blaine's comfort, specifically.

I closed my eyes and cried into his shirt. I lifted my hand and scrubbed it against my lips, trying to get the taste of Karofsky off.

"Shh, no, Kurt," Blaine said in a calming tone. He gently pulled my hand away from my mouth and wrapped his fingers around mine.

"I hate him," I gasped.

"Me, too," Blaine said soothingly.

"Take me home?" I asked weakly.

"Of course."

* * *

><p>"I feel disgusting," I said after finishing brushing my teeth for the tenth time.<p>

"You're not going to do yourself any good staying in that bathroom," Blaine called from my room.

I sighed and turned off the light. I saw Blaine lying on my bed, arms opened invitingly. I fell into bed and curled up against his chest. I looked down and saw the sleeves of my shirt were still rolled up. I self-consciously rolled them down.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked.

"I don't want to look at them," I muttered.

"Okay, sit up," he ordered.

I slowly did, dejectedly staring at my lap.

"Shirt. Off."

My eyes widened and I looked up at him.

"B—Blaine…"

"Nothing sexual, I swear. Just do it."

My heart rate sped up, and not in a good way.

Blaine lifted his hand to cradle my cheek. "Please? I want to help you."

I leaned into the touch and then gave in. I touched the hem of my shirt, took a deep breath, and then pulled it off.

I looked away from my scarred arms.

Blaine pulled out my arms so that they were in the center of attention.

"What do you see when you look at this?"

"I feel disgusted. I see that I was too weak to handle anything. I permanently marred myself because I was too powerless to control myself. Look at you, your bullies were so much worse, but you're so strong."

"Let's say my bullies were worse than yours. I tried to kill myself. You think that's strong? You had the strength to stop yourself before you did anything worse. Do you want to know what I see when I look at your scars? When I look at you?"

I looked down and slowly nodded.

"I see a boy who was hurting and dealt with it in the only way he could think of at the time. You felt completely alone and felt like you had control over nothing, so you exercised the only control you had, the control over your body. You wanted to feel, you wanted to know you were able to make decisions." Blaine put a finger under my chin and made me look at him. "I'm sure you're hurting, now more than ever, but I know you're strong, and that they can't touch you. You'll always be better than them, no matter what happens. And I'll be there next to you."

That broke me. I cried for the tenth time that day and fell into Blaine's arms. He gripped me tightly and didn't let go until I pulled away.

"Do you want to go downstairs? I bet we can find an episode of Project Runway…"

I could only smile. "I think that sounds perfect."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe she won that round, her outfit was awful! The colors didn't match correctly, and didn't go along with the theme. Those judges need to get their eyes checked."<p>

Blaine said nothing. I looked up from where I was curled and saw him staring at me.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

I self-consciously reached my hand up.

"It's nothing, you just amaze me sometimes."

I gave a soft smile then bit my lip nervously.

"What's wrong?"

I looked into Blaine's eyes, then leaned up and kissed him. For a moment, fear raced through my veins, the action drawing me back to the events from earlier in the day. Then I realized that Blaine's lips felt nothing like Karofsky's. Karofsky was rough, dangerous. Blaine's were cautious and loving.

When we separated, Blaine's eyes were sparkling.

"Are you okay with that? Does it remind you too much of what happened today? Because if you're uncomfortable, I promise, I'd wait as long as you need until you're ready, just as long as you let me be arou—"

I silenced him by giving a chaste kiss.

"It's more than okay," I whispered.

His smile could have lit up the entire world.

I spread my body across the couch and rested my head on his chest. Blaine automatically wrapped his arms around my still quite bare torso.

For a few minutes, it was quiet as we watched the rest of the episode.

Then keys jingled in the lock.

My eyes flashed to the door right as it opened and I became hyperaware of my exposed scars. Before I had a chance to cover them up, my father walked through the door, and his eyes fell upon me.

Shirtless.

Lying on Blaine's chest.

Whose arms were wrapped around me.

With nearly healed cuts on my forearms.

My father stood in the doorway for a second, only half through the threshold, and was simply frozen for a few seconds. Then he averted his eyes and he walked fully into the living room, closed the door, and shuffled to the recliner.

I sat up, feeling exposed, and grasped Blaine's hand in mine.

Burt opened his mouth a few times, only to close it a second later.

"Dad? This is Blaine, my, um, boyfriend. I told you about him a few days ago."

"I don't remember that," he said gruffly.

"Because you never listen to what I'm saying," I muttered. "Well, I did."

"Kurt…what happened to your arms?"

I stared at my lap. I didn't know how to answer. I looked up to Blaine with pleading eyes.

"Sir," he began.

"Burt."

"Burt. I haven't known Kurt for all that long, but I do know that he has been going through some very tough times at school, and from what I understand, at home, too."

"What do you mean, problems here?"

His ignorance made me break my silence.

"You never listen to me! I talk to you, and it's like I might as well not be saying anything at all. It goes through one ear and out the other. This has been going on for a long time, and you never noticed anything."

"Kurt…"

"I just needed my dad to be there for me."

"I am here, kid."

I stood up and fell into my father's arms. He wrapped his warm arms around me and I felt at home.

"Burt, I think there's more you should know."

I snapped my head up and stared at Blaine, begging him not to.

_Please don't tell him._

"He needs to know, Kurt. Karofsky needs to be punished for what he's done."

"Karofsky? What'd he do?"

I extricated myself from my father's arms and sat down next to Blaine. I couldn't look at my dad's expression when he found out. I knew better, but it didn't stop me from thinking…would he think I was weak for not being able to defend myself?

"Kurt? What happened?"

I shook my head, blocking the memories as tears welled in my eyes. I crossed my arms across my chest, wincing when I felt the roughness of the old cuts against my chest. Blaine wrapped an arm around my waist and I relaxed the smallest bit.

"I'm not sure what happened before I got there, but we'd been at McKinley, telling the New Directions what was happening with Kurt. We went to my car, but then Kurt decided to go back to tell them something else. It had been a few minutes and I was starting to get a bad feeling, so I went back in, and I passed a door and I heard Kurt crying."

I knew what was coming next. I tried to swallow my tears before they fell onto my cheeks. God, I was pathetic. How many times had I cried today? Get ahold of yourself, Hummel.

"I opened the door and I saw someone who I assumed was Karofsky on top of him…kissing him. I believe that if I hadn't shown up, which I'm so happy I did, that Karofsky may have raped him."

I closed my eyes and fell against Blaine's shoulder. I took in deep, even breaths to calm myself. I pushed away the memories and focused on Blaine's warmth next to me, his tight grip on my waist. I was safe.

There was a beat of silence.

"Kurt, is this true?"

Eyes still closed, I nodded.

* * *

><p>Saturday morning, I woke up to light streaming through my window. I blearily opened my eyes and suddenly realized there was someone else in my bed. I was being held and I was acutely aware of the warm body that was spooning me. Blaine. I slowly turned around as to not wake him, and a smile touched my face when I saw him sleeping.<p>

He looked so peaceful. His eyes fluttered as if he was dreaming and his mouth was slightly open as he breathed.

The events of yesterday came back to me. Dad had been furious and quickly called Figgins and then the police. I was forced to recount what had happened a couple times, but managed to keep myself calm because of Blaine's presence.

We went to my room early. Blaine said his parents were out of town on business, so he could spend the night, if I wanted him to, which of course I did. He was the only person I wasn't at least a little wary around. Burt told us later that the police had taken Karofsky into custody and there would be a hearing in the near future. It was likely that he would be sent to juvenile detention because I had Blaine as a witness.

We had heard nothing from Finn or any of the glee club members. I was almost happy for that, I needed some space away from them.

But for now, I had Blaine, and my only dilemma at the moment was how to wake him. I really didn't want to interrupt him, but I knew that I needed to eat, and he probably did, too. I gently placed my hand on his cheek and shook his face.

"Blaine."

The only response I got was him rolling onto his back, groaning something that sounded like "sleep".

The action warmed my heart. How was it possible to be this…this adorable? The word seemed like an understatement. I couldn't think of anything that described him.

"Blaine."

I received another groan.

Smirking, I leaned down to press a kiss to his lips and was rewarded with an entirely different groan. Blaine responded, sleepily sitting up and holding me. I pulled away.

"Good, you're awake."

"That was a nice way to wake me up…until you stopped. Come back."

He yawned widely and tried to bring me back. I laughed and grabbed his hand. "Breakfast."

I almost laughed when I realized I was still very much shirtless. I usually wasn't this comfortable when exposed this way, but for some reason, I wasn't itching to put on a shirt. I walked down the stairs hand in hand with Blaine, and then suddenly wished I had covered up.

The entirety of New Directions was standing in my living room.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Kurt, we felt awful after hearing what you revealed to us yesterday," Rachel started.

Finn picked up. "And we spent the rest of the day preparing this."

Puck began picking at an acoustic guitar. Finn started singing.

_I guess you really did it this time_

_Left yourself in your war path_

_Lost your balance on a tight rope_

_Lost your mind trying to get it back_

_Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days?_

_Always a bigger bed to crawl into_

_Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything?_

_And everybody believed in you_

Blaine led me over to the couch and I sat down in his lap. I stared wordlessly at the group as they all sang the chorus.

_It's alright, just wait and see_

_Your string of lights are still bright to me_

_Oh, who you are is not where you've been_

_You're still an innocent, you're still an innocent_

Mercedes walked up and grabbed my hands and sang directly to me.

_Did some things you can't speak of_

_But at night you live it all again_

_You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now_

_If only you had seen what you know now then_

_Wasn't it easier in your firefly catching days?_

_When everything out of reach someone bigger brought down to you_

_Wasn't it beautiful running wild 'til you fell asleep?_

_Before the monsters caught up to you_

I squeezed her hands right before she stepped back to rejoin the group.

_It's alright, just wait and see_

_Your string of lights are still bright to me_

_Oh, who you are is not where you've been_

_You're still an innocent_

_It's okay, life is a tough crowd_

_Seventeen is still growing up now_

_Who you are is not what you did_

_You're still an innocent_

Rachel stepped forward, singing through the tears. I was touched because I could tell the difference between Rachel crying simply for effect, and Rachel crying because she was hurting.

_Time turns, flames to embers, you'll have new Septembers_

_Every one of us has messed up too_

_Minds change like the weather, I hope you remember_

_Today is never too late to be brand new_

I leaned back into Blaine's chest, containing my emotion. They regrouped and sang the end.

_It's alright, just wait and see_

_Your string of lights are still bright to me_

_Oh, who you are is not where you've been_

_You're still an innocent_

_It's okay, life is a tough crowd_

_Seventeen is still growing up now_

_Who you are is not what you did_

_You're still an innocent, you're still an innocent_

_Lost your balance on a tightrope_

_It's never too late to get it back_

I stood up and hugged Finn.

"Thank you," I said, directing it to the entire group.

"You know we love you no matter what."

"Even when we're acting like complete douchebags. And if Karofsky ever gives you any more shit, just come to us, we'll punch him in the face."

I smiled at Puck.

"I think you'd find it hard to do that while he's in a holding cell."

"_What_?"

Everyone looked at me with complete shock.

Finn smiled.

"Mom told me what happened last night. You guys go eat; I'll tell them what they need to know."

I gave him a short, grateful hug, and then walked into the kitchen. Blaine followed.

"I feel like I should still be angry with them, but it's hard to after that."

I smiled at Blaine's torn expression as I grabbed a banana and sat on a bar stool.

"It might take a little while for me to trust them completely again, but I think they're forgiven."

Blaine smiled at me and I stopped eating for a moment and just looked.

"What is it?"

"I think I love you."

There. I'd said it. Well, almost said it. But it was true, no matter what.

"It's just…you've saved my life. I'd probably have killed myself within days, and if I hadn't, I would've have gone through something so much worse with Karofsky. I'm so happy you came into my life when you did."

Blaine just smiled.

"I think I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! I like the ending very much so.<strong>

**(insert shameless self promotion here) Please follow me on tumblr: cutegayboysex . tumblr . com (remove the spaces)  
><strong>

**The song Kurt sings to ND is: "Losing Grip" by Avril Lavigne. Blaine's ringtone is: "Keep Breathing" by Ingrid Michaelson. ND sings to Kurt: "Innocent" by Taylor Swift.**

**Please review! I will also take prompts for my next oneshot, if you're interested in helping that.**

**Every single review I get is an inspiration to write more! I try to reply to every one, but I'm sorry if it takes me a while. I've been very busy.**

**-Fiona  
><strong>


	2. I Feel A Weakness Coming On

**Hi! Yes, I know I said that this story would be a oneshot, but I had inspiration, so, yeah, now it's a twoshot.**

**I usually wait to say the song until the end author's note, but this song is so fantastic, I would request that you all listen to it, before reading or during, whichever is better for you. The song used is _The Walk_ by Imogene Heap.**

**If you're waiting for the next chapter of _Speak Now_, you'll have to wait a little while longer. I have ideas, but I haven't written anything yet. I've been away from my computer for a while. I started this a couple months ago and I've worked on it off and on since then, and I finally finished it!  
><strong>

**Please enjoy.**

**-Fiona  
><strong>

**WARNING: I do feel that this chapter is a lot more graphic and emotional that the first installment, even though this is shorter. If this will trigger you, _please_ do not read.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Glee_, Imogene Heap, or _Wicked_, _Chicago_, _Funny Girl_, _West Side Story_, _Les __Misérables_, or _RENT_, or any other copyrighted thing I may have mentioned.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>I didn't get it. It didn't make any sense. What was I doing? Why?<p>

_Stop it, Kurt. Stop it right now_, I commanded myself.

I reached for the blade despite my utter desire not to.

I had no control.

_Why?_

I thought of Blaine. Beautiful, selfless, scarred Blaine. He'd be so disappointed. I'm giving in to the want, the _need_. I can't stop it.

_I'm sorry._

I shuddered in relief as the blade sliced my thigh. Blood spilled out. I cut again. I cut until there were half a dozen fresh ones on my already marred leg.

I hated that I had thought this through so much. I made sure to cut where no one would see.

I could think it through that far, but I couldn't stop myself.

I grasped the gauze that I'd placed on the bathroom counter and wrapped it around my upper thigh.

I stood up, wincing as I put weight on my leg. It hurt like a bitch, but I welcomed the pain. I hobbled over to the mirror which also functioned as a cabinet and put the gauze away. As I closed it, I looked at myself in the mirror.

I hated my reflection.

_You're weak. You're a failure. If Dad knew, if Finn knew, if Blaine knew, anyone…they'd be ashamed of you. Way to go. You're helpless._

I don't really know when this started.

I'd been so happy.

For three weeks, my life was perfect.

Karofsky was gone. Dad was a prominent figure in my life. New Directions welcomed me again. I had Blaine.

Then one day I snapped.

* * *

><p><em>I walked into the house and smiled as I shut the door behind me. My head was replaying the goodbye kiss Blaine and I had shared and my lips were tingling.<em>

_ I hoped that this feeling never left no matter how long we stayed together. The butterflies, the goofy grins…_I want to share all of this with Blaine when we're old and wrinkly_, I thought to myself._

_ I went up to my room with a skip in my step. Smiling like an idiot, I stripped my clothes and stepped into the shower. I absentmindedly went through the movements to clean myself and then stepped out. I wrapped a towel around my waist and then looked at my reflection in the mirror._

_ The next thought I had hit me like a semi-truck._

I hate my life.

_ Why? There's no reason._

_ But I do._

_ I robotically bent down and opened the lower cabinet doors. I shuffled things around until my hand pressed against something small and cold. My fingers wrapped around it and I brought it into view. My heart beat sped up as I looked at the razor that I hadn't touched in weeks._

_ I looked back up to the mirror. My eyes were wide._

_ The hand holding the razor involuntarily started moving to my arm._

_ Why couldn't I stop?_

_ Before I sliced through the skin on my arm, I realized that Blaine would notice. My Dad would notice. Everyone would._

_ Where wouldn't they notice?_

_ My legs._

_ I wear jeans nearly every day._

_ I sat down on the edge of the tub and brought the metal to my leg. As I brushed it across my leg it left a white scratch which quickly turned back to my natural skin color._

_ I pressed harder. I saw blood. I pulled the razor across my leg, opening up more and more skin._

_ I couldn't stop._

* * *

><p>I didn't cut again for a week after that. Then the utter <em>need<em> to feel release took over.

I turned away from the mirror, disgusted with myself.

I needed to tell Blaine. I needed help.

I had to.

* * *

><p>"Hey, you," Blaine said when I opened the door to let him in.<p>

I felt sick. I couldn't sleep the night before. At school, I forgot about it. I stayed under my impenetrable mask. When I got home and realized Blaine was coming over after he got out of school at Dalton, I thought I was going to throw up. I had to tell Blaine, I had to, but I was so damn scared.

"Hey," I said, smiling. I turned around and Blaine followed me upstairs.

We sat down on my bed. When I looked up at him, he pulled me in for a kiss. I reciprocated it hesitantly.

He released me and smiled. "How was your day?"

I told him everything that had happened as we faced each other and sitting cross-legged. While I spoke I watched Blaine play with my hands.

I told him about my very average day, about the solo that Rachel had sung today for this week's assignment—the assignment was to sing a song about falling out of love and Rachel had sung _Thinking of You_ by Katy Perry—which Blaine had requested every detail of because of his insane obsession with the singer. I had received very little harassment; it had been that way since Karofsky was sent to juvie. The little harassment I received now was just for being in glee. Everyone was afraid to say or do anything that could appear homophobic because of Coach Sylvester. She seemed to almost take me under her wing because of this and anyone who did anything that she deemed inappropriate towards me was suspended by the time the day was over. However, her sadism still showed, as being slushied was still appropriate in her book.

While we were talking, in the back of my head, I was worrying over the topic of telling Blaine. It seemed like I could almost feel the scars rubbing against my jeans.

Before I knew it, though, it was nearly seven and Blaine had to be on his way back to Dalton. We still hadn't even broached the subject.

I walked Blaine out to his car and we shared a long kiss before he got in it. As he drove away, a single tear fell across my face.

I was too weak.

* * *

><p>I was so scared.<p>

I was in History. I couldn't sit still. My legs were itching, _burning_. I needed something, anything, to release this pent up need to hurt.

I picked up my pencil and stared at it in wonderment. For obvious reasons, I couldn't do anything to my legs for the moment…

I put my arms under the desk and used the sharpened pencil to scratch softly on my flesh. Then I pressed harder. A drop of blood fell out and I felt an inkling of relief. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the last few hours of school.

I held back my tears. I was so pitiful that I was doing it at school.

* * *

><p>What had I done?<p>

I'd gone too deep. I couldn't just cover this with gauze and be done with it, no; the blood would soak through it in a matter of minutes.

I held gauze to it, applying pressure, just _hoping_ it would stop. My hands were shaking, my vision was blurring. Why would I do this to myself?

And then, when I thought that all hope was lost, I went to my last resort and started praying.

_Anyone…if anyone is up there, listening, I swear I'll never do it again. Please, just make it stop. Don't let me pass out…they'll find me in here, bleeding, and then they'll know. They'll know I was too weak, and they'll pretend they care, when they're just even more disgusted with me. Please, please, please. Just make it stop. I don't want to die, I never wanted to die…I'll never do it again. Make me stop bleeding…_

I held the gauze tighter, tears falling down my cheeks.

Then finally, finally, the blood slowed. Less and less, until soon, I could carefully wrap it up.

I stayed seated on the side of my bathtub for a while, knowing I was too tired to stand.

My phone rang. It was a recording of Blaine singing _Teenage Dream_…

_"Kurt makes me…feel like I'm living a…teenage dream…"_

I'm laughing in the background…as it plays, I give a weak smile, remembering when we recorded that. Blaine and I had been hanging out in my room and his iPod was on shuffle. This song came on and he started singing it to me, and all I wanted was a recording. So he personalized it, sang it, and set it to ring when he called.

I slowly lifted my hand and shakily lifted the phone from the countertop. I saw a picture of Blaine smiling at me and I answered the call.

"H'lo?" I mumbled.

"Hey, Kurt!" Blaine said enthusiastically. "I was wondering what movies you wanted me to bring over today."

"I think we should call off our movie marathon today," I said in a wavering voice.

"What's going on? Are you alright?"

"It's okay," I lied. "I'm just—I'm sick."

"Oh, that's fine. I can come take care of you," he said sweetly.

"_No!_" I nearly yelled.

There was a beat of silence. I worriedly bit my lip.

"Kurt, is there something wrong?"

"No," I said, lowering my voice. "I'm fine. I just want to be alone."

"O—okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"I'll just…talk to you tomorrow, then?"

"Yes. Bye, Blaine."

I hung up before he could respond.

I couldn't let him know.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kurt, you okay?"<p>

I looked up to Rachel. She was sitting in the row in front of me in the choir room and looking at me with a caring expression.

"Fine," I said in a clipped tone. "Why?"

"Blaine called me and said he was worried about you," she smiled, placing an arm on my knee, in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

I flinched, scared that she'd _know_. Somehow, she would just _know_ if she touched me. My scars were burning under the loose jeans I was wearing.

"I am fine, Rachel. Tell Blaine to stop being so clingy."

* * *

><p>After four weeks, I still had scabs from those deep cuts. They hadn't even scarred yet, and I knew that I could potentially have the scars for a year at least.<p>

But I couldn't stop.

I had six other cuts that were so deep.

My hatred for myself made me cut more, made me cut deeper. I knew I didn't want to die, but _what if_ I did? Maybe that would be better.

So I cut deeper.

* * *

><p>I was supposed to keep the cuts on my legs. Supposed to keep them where no one would see.<p>

But I'd hurt myself so much that there was no more room. It hurt too much when I walked.

So the cuts moved to my stomach, and from there, to my upper arms.

I went on a shopping spree to buy more loose pants and long sleeved shirts. I stopped by the drug store to get more gauze and alcohol wipes and bleach. I wished that someone would see and ask why I was buying these things so that I could fall into their arms and cry all my problems to them. I wished I would see someone else buying the same things as me.

Nothing.

I was alone.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kurt!" I heard Mercedes call after me. I stopped and turned.<p>

"Yes?" I snapped.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come over to my house, we haven't talked in a while," she said obliviously.

"I can't, Blaine's coming over," I lied smoothly.

I went home and I spent hours staring at the bathroom door. I had to stop. I _had_ to.

An hour later, I was scrubbing my blood off the bathroom floor.

* * *

><p>I sat on my bed. I wore shorts and no shirt. I made myself look at my mutilated legs, stomach, and arms. I felt disgusted. How could I do this to myself?<p>

Music played in the back of my mind. I closed my eyes and my head slowly swayed back and forth to the beat of the song. A few tears fell down my face.

_Inside out, upside down, twisting beside myself_

_Stop that now, 'cause you and I were never meant to be_

_I think you better leave, it's not safe in here_

_I feel a weakness coming on_

I opened my eyes and forced myself to look at the scars, forced myself to look at what I'd done for no reason. There was something wrong with me, obviously, if I thought this would help. And that just made me want to hurt myself more. It was a vicious cycle.

_Alright then, I could keep your number for a rainy day_

_That's where this ends, no mistakes, no misbehaving_

_Oh, I was doing so well, can we just be friends?_

_I feel a weakness coming on_

I fell down onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as I cried more.

_It's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all_

_I don't want to feel like this, yeah_

_No, it's not mean to be like this, not what I planned at all_

_I don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault_

I hated myself.

_Inside out, upside down, twisting beside myself_

_Stop that now, you're as close as it gets without touching me_

_Oh no, don't make it harder than it already is_

_Mmm, I feel a weakness coming on_

I was ugly.

_It's not mean to be like this, not what I planned at all_

_I don't want to feel like this, yeah_

_No, it's not mean to be like this, not what I planned at all_

_I don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault_

I was sick.

_Big trouble, losing control_

_Primary resistance at a critical low_

_On the double, gotta get a hold_

_Point of no return, one second to go_

I wasn't capable of helping myself.

_No response on any level, red alert, this vessel's under siege_

_Total overload, systems down, they've got control_

_There's no way out, we are surrounded_

_Give in, give in, and relish every minute of it_

Everyone who knew of my past had told me that I could talk to them. I knew I could, so why didn't I? I was scared. I was weak. I was pathetic.

_Freeze_

_Awake here forever_

_I feel a weakness coming on_

I was broken.

_It's not mean to be like this, not what I planned at all_

_I don't want to feel like this, yeah_

_No, it's not meant to be like this, it's just what I don't need_

_Why make me feel like this? It's definitely all my fault_

_Feel like this_

_La la la la la la la la_

_Feel like this_

_La la la la la la la la_

_Feel like this_

_La la la la la la la la_

_Feel like this_

_La la la la la la la la_

_It's all my fault_

I brought my hands up to my eyes as I tried to scrub the tears away, but they were quickly replaced by new ones.

"Kurt?"

A mangled cry came from my throat as I threw a blanket over myself. I saw Blaine, crying, standing at my door.

"I—I came over because Mercedes said you didn't seem like yourself today. Burt let me in, I heard you singing and thought I'd just come in…Kurt, what are you doing?"

I'd pulled the blanket over my head, biting my lip and trying to silence the sobs that wracked my body.

"G—go away," I said weakly.

"Kurt, take the blanket off, please."

"No," I said just barely loud enough for him to hear.

I felt my bed dip as his weight was added, and then a hand was pulling at the blanket.

_"Stop!"_ I screamed.

_"Kurt!"_ He retaliated. I froze, clenching my eyes shut. "I know what I saw, just, _please_, let me help you."

I curled into a fetal position, pulling my legs up to my chest, trying to hide the injuries. I let the blanket slowly be peeled away.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not looking at him. "I'm so sorry."

I could feel his eyes raking over my marred body, and then a warm hand began unfurling my taut muscles. I rolled myself over and pressed my face and chest into the sheets. Blaine made calming noises with reassuring whispers as he gently turned me on to my back.

I kept my eyes diverted, shifting my head to the left so that I was staring over to where my closet door opened. A steady stream of tears cascaded down my cheeks. I could feel his disappointment; I could feel him judging me.

"Kurt, _why_?" Blaine asked in a broken voice.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"I should've noticed, _Christ_, how didn't I notice? I'm so sorry I let you down," he said, staring down into my eyes. He sat me up and pulled my into my lap and buried his face into the crook of my neck. "It's okay," he murmured. "We'll work this out."

"You don't have to stay with me," I said flatly, trying not to forget everything and just let him hold me.

After I second, I heard him choke out what sounded like "no".

"Never, Kurt. I'm staying as long as you want me. I'll love you no matter what."

"But I'm broken, I can't fix this," I said, staring at my hands which were gently folded in my lap.

"Exactly," Blaine said. "You can't fix this. But we can. Together. You need someone else; your own mind is your biggest bully. You need someone to cheer for you."

I finally looked up, and suddenly, as his eyes bored into me, I was miles away, in the Lima Bean, meeting Blaine for the first time…judging his eyes, trying to see if he was being serious, if he was even _real_. I remember realizing what I'd seen there: compassion and understanding. But this time was so much better, because in that liquid melting pot of Blaine's eyes, I saw one more emotion: love.

And that broke me. More tears fell across my face. I wrapped an arm around his neck and the other gripped his shirt like a lifeline as I sobbed into his shirt. His smell enveloped me, but instead of its usual calming effect, it brought on a fresh wave of tears, because this was the smell that I wanted with me forever.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll try, I'm so sorry."

Blaine rocked me while I cried; pressing kisses into my hair and whispering into my ear. After I'd relatively slowed my breathing and only hiccupped every few minutes, Blaine began to lay on the heavy.

"No, don't be sorry, this isn't your fault. _I'm_ sorry. I should've noticed this. You did nothing wrong," he said, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"But I let you down," I whispered into his chest.

"Kurt, you did nothing of the sort. I thought that just because the club sang to you and Karofsky was gone and you had me, that all of your problems would go away. Things don't work like that, this is my fault, I should've realized."

My head snapped up and I saw that he believed every word that he just spoke.

"_No_," I said, horrified. "You didn't do anything, you've been perfect. I was too much of a goddamn coward to say anything. I could never stop thinking of how disappointed you'd be in me."

"Maybe we can agree to disagree," Blaine compromised. "But I could never be disappointed in you. You did nothing wrong. Perhaps you went about things in a less productive manner, but you didn't do anything wrong, whoever tells you that is lying."

My entire demeanor softened. I let my head fall onto his shoulder. My nose presses into his neck, and I take a minute to simply breathe. This time, a rush of placidity slowly made its way through my veins. Every muscle in my body became less and less tense. It's better than a massage.

"I love you," Blaine whispered, his arms holding me close to his body and his head resting against mine. The words cause a faint wind across my hair, and it's almost as if I can _feel_ him say it. It's a magical thing.

Ever so slowly, I raise my head. Blearily, Blaine opens his eyes. It shocks me how easily I became this tranquil when minutes before I was on verge of being unable to breathe. A silly smile crept up on my face and I replied breathily.

"I love you. So much."

Blaine smiled and leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my lips. When we broke apart, I sighed and let my head fall back onto his chest.

"You should sleep," he whispered, slowly laying me down on the bed.

"Stay," I mumbled, holding onto his shirt.

"Burt's still downstairs," Blaine said, though there was no fight in his voice and he had already started arranging the blankets so that he could cuddle close to me.

"He won't care, just stay." I was sure that it came out as a garbled mush, but Blaine seemed to understand.

I barely had the chance to feel the warmth that was Blaine wrap around me before I fell into the black abyss of sleep.

* * *

><p>When I woke, I was cold. I rolled over and the sheets were warm, but I was alone in the bed.<p>

"Blaine?" I said blurrily, rubbing my hands against my eyelids.

I looked out the window and it was pitch black. It was Friday, wasn't it? Blaine surely hadn't left already, at least not without saying goodbye, right?

However, my questions were answered as Blaine's now more considerably fuzzy head popped out from the bathroom.

"Hi, sorry I left. An idea came to me," he said, walking back, a hand held behind his back.

I sat up as I became more comprehensible. "What sort of idea?"

Blaine sat on the bed in front of me, crossing his legs. He brought out his fisted hand and slowly opened it. My blade rested in the middle of his palm.

My eyes widened and my breathing quickened. I told him I'd try, and I would, but this couldn't just be thrust upon me without _wanting_. I tried to scramble backwards from it, but I was already pressed against the headboard. My crazed eyes met Blaine's, and I let out a pitiful whimper.

He finally seemed to realize that it wasn't just surprising me, it was completely _terrifying_ me. He gently sat it down on the other side of the bed, making sure it wouldn't fall or, god forbid, accidentally cut either of us. At the thought, my stomach started to convulse.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," I say softly, clenching my eyes shut, attempting to think of anything else.

Blaine's hands cupped my face—I tried to stop myself from remembering that those hands had just, minutes before, been holding the blade—and he quietly shushed me, trying to help my breathing return to normal.

My eyes flew open in desperation. "Trash can," I managed to get out before my stomach heaved. Thankfully, it was quickly retrieved from its place next to my bed and it was thrust into my hands. I emptied what was in my stomach into it and continued to dry heave for a few minutes while a warm hand rubbed circles on my back. My throat burned because of the acidity, and my mind was a flurry of _why _and _make it stop_. When I stopped convulsing, I put the can back on the floor and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears.

Blaine was silent, even though all I wanted was an explanation.

"Why?" I hissed, still trying to slow my breathing. "God, Blaine, why would you think that was a good idea?"

"I wanted, no, _want_ you to throw it away," he replied.

"Can you do that, please? I can't touch it. I said I'd try, but if it's put any closer to me, oh god, I can't, if you want me to not use it, please, don't have it near me."

Arms wrapped around my shoulders, but I stayed in my position, knees curled in on myself and hands on my face. "No," Blaine said firmly. "You have to do it. It _will_ help. It doesn't control you, Kurt. It's just a piece of metal, it can't think, it can't move, it can't _sing_ like you can." That brought a small smile to my face and it spurred Blaine on. "You have more power than it. It's alright, that was probably too soon. But eventually, you'll understand that you don't need that in your life."

I lifted my head but make sure that the blade wasn't in my line of sight. "Okay," I say. "I'll work towards that."

Blaine nodded and leaned to the side of the bed. When I looked back, the blade was gone. He held up his fist. "I will leave this with you, but I won't tell you where it is so you can't be tempted. When you come to this realization, you should be able to figure out where I've hidden it. Go back to sleep, before I tried this stunt I cleared it with Burt and my parents that I could stay."

After a second and a deep breath to calm my nerves, I nodded curtly and let myself slide back under the covers. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to call for sleep. There was movement in my room, and after a few minutes, Blaine climbed back into the bed. Arms wrapped around me, and in seconds, I was back in the realm of sleep.

* * *

><p>It had been seventeen days. I was counting, wondering when I could overcome my need and fear of that blade.<p>

It happened when I was cleaning my room, the soundtrack to _Wicked_ playing. I'd abandoned my wet rag to dance around the room, belting out _Defying Gravity_. When I hit the high F, I proudly held up my head as a fake crowd screamed for me in the back of my mind. When I opened my eyes, they fell on the small box of Broadway musical playbills that I'd managed to acquire.

And then I understood.

I had so much more power than that addiction. Pain didn't help anything, it brought me down. I had a future that I needed to fulfill, and I couldn't do that if I was the one pulling me back. My head cocked to the side. I had a second realization. The blade was in that box, in between one of the mint condition playbills. I smiled, of course that would be where Blaine would put it.

I didn't go for it. I finished cleaning, finished the homework I needed for the next day, and spent a couple hours doing nothing in particular on my laptop. Then, without another thought, I fell asleep.

* * *

><p>When I woke the next day, I went through my regular routine of getting ready for school. Then, as I grabbed my messenger bag and started to take a step out of my room, my eyes landed on the small box, and I remembered. A smile passed over my face, because I knew that I was <em>free<em>. And Blaine would help me whenever I felt, once again, chained to the addiction.

I took slow steps to the box. I reached for it, and that was when I realized that my hands were shaking. I was scared. I knew I was stronger than it, but what if just the simple sight of it sent me reeling? I heard a car honk outside, and that jarred me out of my fear. I grabbed the entire box and put it in my bag. I would do it at the Lima Bean later today—with Blaine.

I walked down the stairs, slightly unnerved by the knowledge that the blade was in my bag, but also feeling liberated. I grabbed an apple, deciding that that would be enough for my breakfast today, and started out the door.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw Blaine's car parked in front of my house with the driver himself leaning against the hood, dressed in a plaid shirt, paired with a dark red bow tie with matching cardigan, which almost hid the black suspenders, dark skinny jeans, and dress shoes with no socks. He grinned when he saw me trying to process the sight in front of me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, walking to him.

"Good morning to you, too," he said, letting his black wayfarers fall down the bridge of his nose.

"Why aren't you at Dalton?"

"Gosh, so many questions."

"What are you wearing?"

"Street clothes. You've seen my street clothes before, Kurt," Blaine said with a wink.

"Yes, but why aren't you wearing your uniform?" I asked impatiently.

"A little rumor has been floating around that a dashing young Warbler has decided to leave behind his sheltered, dapper school boy days and is daring to wade into the shark infested waters that is William McKinley High School," he said cheekily.

"Oh my god," I said, hand flying to my mouth. "Are you serious? You _transferred_?"

Blaine just grinned and nodded.

I launched myself into his arms. "Oh my god, this is amazing!" I exclaimed.

Blaine stepped back, holding my shoulders at arm length and staring into my eyes. "I did this for you. I decided that it was better for both of us if we were together. I want to be near you, that way nothing like this ever happens again; I want to be given the chance to notice any signs of problems. Think of it as helping our plans for the future."

Tears welled in my eyes and I nodded, pulling him close again.

"Now, may I escort you to school?"

I laughed and let him lead me to the passenger side of his car. He held my hand as he helped me into the seat. "What a gentleman," I commented slyly.

"Oh, but of course," he said, grinning, after he walked around the car and sat down in front of the wheel. He put the sunglasses in a cup holder, seeing as it was overcast and he had no real need for them.

I smiled softly as I stared at my lap. I then reached into my bag and pulled out the box and held it tightly.

"I see you've realized," Blaine said a minute later, when he noticed it.

"I get it now, I really do," I said, my hands splaying across the top of the black box. "It doesn't have any hold over me. It's just a piece of metal, it can't control me, I control it. I have a future, and I plan on reaching my full potential, but I can't do that if it's pulling me down. I won't let a damn _blade_ join the group of people who will try to tear me down."

Blaine was silent until we parked in the parking lot. Then when he looked at me, I was shocked to see that his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Yes," he breathed. "That's the same exact thing I had to realize years ago, and I think you really understand it. I'm so proud of you."

I smiled. "Good. I want you to be."

"So what are you going to do?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

I looked at the box, and then finally opened the lid. I started to rifle through playbills for musicals such as _Wicked_, _Chicago_, _Funny Girl_, _West Side Story_, and_ Les __Misérables_.

"It's in _RENT_," Blaine murmured.

I found the playbill and carefully pulled it out. I shook it slightly and the blade slid into my palm. I thought it was sort of appropriate for it to be in _RENT_, seeing as I was a gay man with self-destructive tendencies.

I stared at it for a second, and then wrapped my palm around it. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. I heard a second door slam and I knew that Blaine was following me silently. The metal warms to the temperature of my skin, and if it weren't for the sharp edges digging into my palm, I would've forgotten it was there.

After a minute of walking, I stopped in front of one of the large rubber trash bins that were placed around campus to discourage littering. Blaine stopped next to me and I could hear him breathing. There were very few people milling around at the time, so I felt safe to open my fist. I stared at the blade, and for a minute, I think that I might start crying hysterically again. So I do the only thing that could stop that from happening.

I tilted my hand over. For a second, the blade stuck to my hand, and then it fell into the black trash bag in the bin. Then I ran, I didn't want to be tempted to reach into that disgusting trash bin, grab the metal, and escape to where I could hurt myself in peace.

Blaine found me a few minutes later. I was sitting underneath my locker, holding my knees to my chest, staring blankly ahead of me.

"You okay?" He asks, sliding down the row of lockers. When he sits, our legs brush and he reaches to intertwine my fingers with his. I let him.

A smile graced my face and I look at Blaine with tears that would never fall in my eyes. "I'm free," I said.

"You're free," Blaine said, nodding.

I wrapped my hands around his neck.

"I'm free," I said again, with a sense of finality that almost overwhelms me. "I'll be alright."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not too confident on that ending, so please, tell me how I did in a review!<strong>

**I'm 99% positive I won't continue this. Thank you to everyone who showed support and reviewed on the first chapter!**

**Once again, the song used is _The Walk_ by Imogene Heap.**

**I apologize if there was any problem with the tense. I've started naturally writing in present tense, but I wrote the first installment in first person past tense, so I wanted to stay in the same format. I've caught as many errors as I can, and I might make more edits in the future.**

**Thank you for reading! Please, please, please review!**

**-Fiona  
><strong>


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